Blood and Guts

I try to give blood. It's on my list of things to do in my life. Maybe once a year or so, I think "that would be a nice thing to do, and it will be a nice way to conquer my fear of needles." I really do try. It just never works out.

I get very little support in this endeavor, by the way. Every time I bring it up to friends, they tell me horror stories about passing out. A few seem to have a pathological fear of blood. None of them seems to understand my need to donate my blood at least once in my life.

Every few months, there's a blood drive at work. And one of my friends donates regularly, so I decided to go down with him on Thursday. He advised me to eat and drink before I went. So I did. I was very good. I filled out the questionnaire, got my finger prick, lay down on the bed...Dave, my friend, was next to me, and let me tell you, the blood was just flying out of him.

Periodically, the guy who told you which bed to go to (who was wearing a purple shirt) would come by and look at the nurse by me, and eventually she came over. She clamped the band around my arm and had me squeeze a little toy. Then the guy in the purple shirt came over and tapped my arm and told her which vein to go for. It occurred to me at that point that maybe this girl was new or something, but she had a line in the woman next to me, so I figured it would be OK.

So, the stupid girl puts the needle in, and it really hurt. But I've never given blood before, and I'm kind of a baby about needles, so I'm trying to be brave...and then she runs over to the guy collecting Dave's blood and says "her vein is blowing up."
So he says "you have to take it out. Clamp it, tape it down, and I'll be right over."
Then she gets the guy in the purple shirt, and they're all working on getting the port out of my arm.
I was trying not to look, so I stayed facing Dave, who was COMPLETELY DONE by this point.
The girl bandaged my arm, and I asked her what happened.
So she turned to the man in the purple shirt and tells him that "she wants to know why this is happening."
And the man in the purple shirt explained it thusly: "Move over to the next bed and we'll try a vein in your other arm."

Umm...no. No you won't.

By this point, Dave was up drinking juice and eating cake like no one took a pint of blood out of him just ten minutes ago. We were back at our desks within an hour.


It's like Mardi Gras in my crelbow right now. And I'm starting to feel my dream of donating blood just floating (or is that flowing?) away.